


Day of Atonement

by Fanfictionwriter117



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Public Humiliation, Spinner!Rumple, woobie!Rumple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfictionwriter117/pseuds/Fanfictionwriter117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of the Ogre's War, Hodor makes an example of Rumplestiltskin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day of Atonement

The thundering of horse's hooves galloping down the dirt path and the yelling of the riders, urging on their steeds were all the spinner and his son could hear, his father hastily pulling a thin drape over their homespun window.

"Papa," the boy whimpered, huddling to him for protection.

"It's alright, Bae." He murmured, clutching his son. He petted his hair in a futile attempt to sooth his scared son. "Everything's going to be okay." He knew it was a lie. He knew he couldn't protect his boy, but he could at least try and reassure the child that his Papa meant safety, that he could do what he was supposed to do. Huddled, they clung to one another, the father burying his face into the top of his son's head, unable to ignore his son's tightened shudders.

From time to time, their village was subjected to 'inspections' by the Duke's knights. They came riding through the village, circling the peasant folk who stood silent with their head's bowed and their gaze averted. Women held their children close while the men stood by their wives, eyeing the men on horseback with a mixture of fear and caution.

The sounds of galloping and laugher grew louder as they passed their tiny hovel and into the village centre. The sounds of women pleading and children crying over the barking orders and laugher of the knights rang through the spinner's ears as he clutched his boy, his precious boy, his lifeline. If anything were to happen to the boy, he would never forgive himself, nor could he live. With the 3rd Ogre's War finally ended, he had managed to protect his boy from being conscripted to fight. Yet, everyday he lived in constant fear that despite that small miracle, he would still lose his boy, to sickness, to poverty, anything.

A loud banging came from his door, the makeshift wood shaking under the force. "Come out! Now!" A voice commanded, striking fear into the poor spinner. He didn't want to move, to leave the relative safety of behind his door but he was lowborn, his low social status giving him no title or power. He had no land save for the meagre vegetable patch he had attempted to cultivate, which brought in very little income. His tarnished reputation insured his impoverished life.

His door was banged again. "Spinner!"

His boy looked up at him with terrified eyes, "Papa." He brushed his hair from his face, trying his best to smile. "It's okay, son." He said tenderly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he rose, reaching for his walking stick. Holding his son to his side, he opened the door to be seized by the collar, forcibly marched to where there others had been gathered, despite his son's panicked yells. "Papa," the boy cried, running to hug him. His father hushed him gently.

The knights then proceeded to circle the group of peasants, forming a defensive circle causing them to become inclosed within. Hodor, commander of the Duke's armies approached, his large horse coming to a halt before them. Nudging his horse, he slowly walked back and forth the peasants.

"Today," he began, his authoritative voice echoing, "one year ago, a truce was called ending the third Ogre's War." He stopped his horse, looking out amongst them. "We remember the fallen, to commemorate those who gave their lives."

His gaze soon landed on the spinner, clutching his walking stick, fearfully holding his boy. His eyes turned steely, "and to shame those who ran." His face bearing an expressionless mask, he waved two of his fingers in a brisk downward motion, signalling his men. Before the older man had a chance to speak or to move, he was seized by his arms.

"No, please sir." He whimpered fearfully, shuffling away while trying to remain holding his son. "No! Papa!" The boy cried, forcibly pulled away from his father as he was half carried before Hodor, his lame leg unable to support his weight without the assistance his stick provided. Thrown to the ground, he landed before the giant horse. He kept his eyes on the ground as Hodor dismounted, a pair of leather boots coming towards him. Unsheathing his sword, he held it under the spinner's chin making him left his head to meet his gaze.

"What is your name?" He asked, looking down at him. He said nothing, only averting his gaze. "Speak up!" Hodor demanded, causing the peasant to jump. "R-Rumplestiltskin, sir." He stammered, nervous.

"Rumplestiltskin!" Hodor proclaimed loudly, twisting his blade, causing the old man to wince painfully. "The man who ran." He once again looked out amount the crowd before returning his gaze to the man on the ground. "Stand up," he instructed, nudging him with his sword. The peasant did nothing, his thin shoulders quaking. "I can't." He murmured, brokenly.

Hodor looked at him almost quizzingly. "Why?"

"...my leg," the spinner replied, shamefully. Kneeling to his level, his eyes devoid of emotion, "you broke it." The spinner nodded, closing his eyes, knowing it served as a permeant reminder of his cowardice, his shame.

"You ran," Hodor continued, watching as tears threatened to spill. "Why did you run?" He asked. Again, the spinner remained silent. He knew why he ran. He knew what he was. He lived with a painful testament to it every day and would do for the rest of his life. He shook his head.

A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcibly pulling him up to face the gathered crowd. "Why did you run?" He asked again, forcefully keeping a hand gripped in his hair, ignoring the spinner's pained groan. "Please," he pleaded. He lived with enough humiliation and scorn.

"You're a coward," the knight shook him, still gripping his hair. "Say it."

To proclaim his cowardice to his village, declare himself a coward and deserter before them and his son. Looked amongst the villagers, he found his boy, holding his walking stick, tears running down his cheeks. His son looked up to him. Listened to him with awe in his eyes when he spoke, when telling him stories of his own childhood, when teaching him the trade of spinning, how to care for livestock.

To Bae, he was his hero.

He shook his head, eyes glassing as tears welled up. His head was pulled back, shooting pain up his neck. "Say it."

"Not in front of my boy." He choked, shaking his head. He yelled in pain as his arm was twisted behind his back. _"Say it!"_ He choked back a sob as tears began to freely fall. If it would save him further pain, then he would. A coward's escape.

"Alright," he sobbed, hanging his head as the grip in his hair eased. "I'm...I'm a coward."

"I can't hear you, hobblefoot." Hodor sneered, shoving him.

"I'm a coward," the spinner repeated, louder.

 _"Louder!"_ The knight yelled, taking a hold of his chin, forcing him to face his village. "Tell them all what you are!"

"I'm a coward!" He yelled, his chest heaving exhaustedly as he was pushed to the ground, crumbling in a heap before them before curling into a foetal position, weeping. Satisfied, Hodor once again mounted his steed, pulling on the reins as he signalled for his men to follow his lead. Looking down at the man lying on the ground, he spat before galloping onward, his men following.

As the galloping of hooves faded further into the distance, the villagers soon began to disperse, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, quietly sparing glances at the poor man on the ground, yet no one approached him. While mothers ushered their children indoors and the men carried on with their daily tasks, Bae ran through them to his papa's side, collapsing to his knees. Tentatively reaching out, he pet his father's dirty brown hair, "papa?"

Looking up, mud streaking his face, he reached up to touch the young boy's face. "Bae," he whispered, voice breaking as tears once again welled up in his eyes, the tear tracks still visible one his cheeks. "Oh, my boy," he choked as the little boy wrapped his arms around his papa's neck, nuzzling in. He didn't care what that man said, what he had said or what he had made papa say.

He placed a gentle kiss to his papa's forehead. "I love you, papa." He whispered, petting the ends of his hair. Slowly, the older man brought up his arms, wrapping them tightly around his son. "Oh, Bae. I love you too." Closing his eyes, he finally let the tears fall, content in knowing that he was in the arms of the one person who would never hurt him, who would always love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another woobie spinner instalment after watching Desperate Souls


End file.
